Chained souls
by chloemcg
Summary: Fluffy one-shot. Simon Blackquill winds up discovering an injured hawk chick in his prison cell and he ends up connecting with the small fledgeling.


**Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of the characters from Ace attorney, especially not Simon nor Taka as they belong to Capcom and not me.**

 **Chained souls.**

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Sleep could be your friend or your foe, sometimes it would let you have your sleep without disturbance...others it would be elusive -it just would not come to you no matter how hard you try and sink into the dark depths of slumber.

It was almost always the latter for prosecutor Simon Blackquill.

Almost each and every single night, the young man would lay down on his less-then-comfy "bed" (which was basically just a hard rectangular slate surface of amalgamate that jutted out from one of the walls to his cell) and he would pull his thin blanket up to his chest and stare at the ceiling with a dull edge present in his heavy and tired eyes. Being imprisoned for the murder of his mentor, Metis Cykes, and the constant dreams he would have that was related to this just made his _already-bad_ case of insomnia worse.

Not to mention the horrible twilight heatwave!

It was a sweltering Summers evening and it was very dark outside; it was blazing hot and the air was so humid that it could probably actually cause anyone to melt into a huge puddle. Unfortunately that just made it harder for all of the inmates of one of the most referenced and recommended prisons in the whole of Japanifornia, especially since it only heightened the criminals ire and made them irritable and more prone have fights break out.

It would all make for constant sleepless nights.

...Or _more_ constant sleepless nights in Simon Blackquill's case.

The convicted prosecutor lay down on his bed with thoughts of would-be vengeance bubbling inside of his mind. While people pointed the finger straight at him for what had happened, he knew the truth: there was a man whom he had been trying to track down for a very long time -an international spy whom had somehow infiltrated the Cosmos space centre years ago and sabotaged the rocket launch that had happened. Of course the governments first action was to save their own pathetic backsides by covering the whole thing up and making it seem like some sort of heroic fantasy fiction story and spoon fed the gullible public with these lies.

Of course, Simon, the only person who went rogue on investigating the whole thing, knew the plain and simple truth behind all that rubbish.

He knew so very well that he hadn't committed any crime, especially murder, of the sort...maybe except for tampering with the crime scene but he felt as though he had no choice if he wanted to fulfil his late mentor's wishes and what she'd want him to do.

But by no means was this the limit for his inner turmoil, it had been such a struggle for his psyche, too. Poor Simon had been stuck in a mental limbo for years; whenever he closed his eyes, he would be haunted by dreams -more like nightmares.

Nightmares of seeing Metis' deceased body with the katana would just haunt him and then he would remember little Athena, one of the sweetest, timid and antisocial children he had ever met -he would vividly recall seeing her stood right beside the operating table with her soft bright blue eyes looking glazed, far-off, dark and almost demented as she spoke the words, _"Somethings wrong with Mom, so I'm taking her apart to fix her!"_

The samurai prosecutor just couldn't forget about it, no matter how hard he had tried.

So for the moment, he just hoped and prayed that sleep would find him eventually. Although the thoughts that almost always made a frantic dash though his mind made doing this a very frustrating and arduous task. He would become frustrated and eventually would just give up trying to fall asleep all together, and unfortunately it seemed that this was the case here.

He just lay in bed, very much awake and realising that he was not very likely to get much sleep tonight.

The samurai prosecutor rolled on to his left side in order to face the wall of his cell and clutched on to his blankets tighter with such strength in his fingertips. But little was he aware of what was about to happen as he shut his eyes and let loose a rather disgruntled moan beneath his breath. He punched his pillow as he frustratedly sunk into his bed and just tried to calm down.

Three minutes of silence passed, yet they felt like an eternity to the prison convict.

Suddenly a very odd sound awoke him from his non-sleep.

 _Skit, skit, skit, skit!_

Simon abruptly jolted upwards into a sitting position, the blankets sliding down from his chest and falling in a crinkled up, untidy heap on to his lap. He quickly dug into the pockets of his prison jammies and produced two small kunai from them. When he was first taken into prison, the samurai managed to smuggle the two weapons inside just in case he was potentially threatened in anyway, shape or form and although keeping them a secret was almost as tough as living here in the klink, he was not going to live here without any means of defence.

Simon clutched on tight to the twin Japanese throwing blades that he had somehow smuggled into prison, wielding them skilfully and made himself look more intimidating then he already was and then he demanded in a tight whisper whilst glancing around quickly and rather frantically to find the source of the noise, "Whose there!?"

No immediate answer.

He started to feel a bit daunted now.

Lowering his kunai for a moment, he inched himself towards the edge of his "bed" and then looked down at the floor. He squinted his eyes so he could hopefully catch a quick glance of a silhouette or anything just encase there really was some intruder in his room. His heart was absolutely pounding with trepidation and he couldn't help the slight sheen of sweat that dripped down his face. He decided to quickly put one of his smuggled miniature throwing swords into his pocket.

Then he saw it.

Simon's suspicions were suddenly confirmed.

A small unknown shape shot through the darkness, darting right out from beneath his steel-table-bed. The silhouette of its form was tumbling along the cracked and crumbling amalgamate clumsily but from what very little Blackquill could see, he couldn't help but take notice that this... _thing_ was apparently some sort of lump.

Simon was absolutely dumbstruck when he saw it. He even closed his eyes to refresh his vision to make sure that fatigue hadn't caught him in one of its many snares filled with hallucinations and delusions -alas when he opened his eyes again, the thing was still there.

He swung both of his legs over the edge of the cot so his bare feet could touch the cold ground below and then he picked himself up off of the uncaring and unfeeling metal "bed" and then slowly dropped his stance, lowered himself to the floor and sat on his knees, being as quiet and cautious as he possibly could in this situation. Although he had sheathed one of his kunai and put back in his pocket, he still kept the other one tightly gripped in his hand.

The atmosphere started to become intense and it admittedly made the hairs on the back of prosecutor Blackquill's neck stand on end.

It was as though a bolt of electrifying adrenaline pulsated through the air.

Simon _oh-so_ slowly crept straight towards and scowled at the unidentified objected and then pointed his kunai at it. He could deduce that whatever this thing was it was alive due to the muffled sounds of its fearful calls as well as its quick breaths of panic as it probably sensed the analytical samurai prosecutor's presence. It was upon getting a closer look at it that Simon noticed that this thing was actually covered by a rag of some kind.

His cautious hostility diminished slightly and his brows knitted together to paint a look of confusion and perplexity. What was this thing exactly? What was he to do whenever he unveiled this unknown creature? He knew then that he shouldn't hesitate any longer and so decided to just get it over with.

Simon was only able to see it clearly thanks to the thin rays of nighttime light that shone through the bars of his puny cell window but he swiftly reached forwards and grabbed on to and lifted the rag quickly off of the unidentified creature with his free hand, but what it turned out to be had astonished and amazed him to the point of stunned and aghast silence.

Simon couldn't help but gawk at what had wound up in his cell. He was so stunned that he had to rub his baggy eyes to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was, to check if his eyes were playing tricks on him. After all, maybe his fatigue from sleep deprivation was making him hallucinate?

But no, there it was.

It was a northern goshawk.

It was pink and kind of ugly and squidgy, with a few white-silvery feathers. Where there should have been eyes there were black lumps which he figured were just a pair of unopened and underdeveloped eyeballs, there was a small amount of mucus coming out from its nostrils. The thing was practically skin and bones with two tiny little legs that were like twigs.

The man came to the conclusion that the small bundle of feathers was obviously very young, the fact that it's plumage was practically consisted with thick white baby fluff the fact that it had tiny stumps for wings was clear evidence of this.

The chick seemed very unsteady on its own two talons as it wobbled from left and right, side-to-side. One of the wings-the left one- looked mangled and twisted, it looked sort of like a jagged chicken wing, had been tucked in and pressed closely to its small body. Simon knew that wasn't a good sign. But it seemed the hawk's hunting skills were not only intact but very well-refined, proof of this was the small lifeless grass hopper which was clamped in its beak, the insect was probably taking refuge beneath the so-called "bed" and the little fluff ball had more than likely had stumbled across the insect and had decided to devour it.

Simon didn't know what the appropriate response would be to this little discovery but he couldn't help but take pity on the tiny helpless creature as he stared down at its rather pitiful attempts to move around.

He felt his heart break for it and he just found himself in a bit of a self-debate on what he should do with the fledgeling as he started to scratch at his head in deep thought. Should he secretly take it outside and hope it flies away? Should he call someone? Who should he even call? If he called the insolent prison guards, he feared that something bad would happen; who knows what they would do to the poor thing, thanks to their endless stupidity? But he also feared what would happen if he were to simply let nature take its course, the poor thing could get hurt back out in the wild or even killed, maybe even starve to death -especially as it was so young; too young to be dependant without its parents.

Blackquill wiped away all previous traces of shock from his facial features and then proceeded to reach forwards and attempt to touch the small chick to examine it a bit closer. As he slowly extended his arm, offering his hand out to the fluffy tiny chick, he noticed that the baby fluff had become more ruffled and its tiny eyes seemed to narrow into a scowl. The fluffy little predator tried to leap up and tried to bite down hard on his finger, the second any of the man's ghost-White fingers were in reach -much like he had on the poor crushed grass hopper that he had swallowed moments before.

The samurai prosecutor managed to pull away his hand in time to not get bit and he couldn't help but smile at the feistiness of this little fledgeling.

Ever since he was a young boy, Simon had always had a soft spot for Japanese culture and birds. He was utterly and completely fascinated by them, heck when he was very young he would watch the skies and do some bird watching with his father (before he left) for hours on end while his older sister, Aura, tinkered away with the house appliances. Simon couldn't remember when his like for the feathery creatures began but he knew that that he would never grow out of it -actually he had not actually thought about his love for all things feathery until now.

"Now, now," He chided gently, attempting to use his own hands to fence the birdie in, "I shall not harm you."

The little bird didn't seem to trust him very much at all, that was made very clear, but the samurai wasn't going to let the baby bird go on any account unless he was fit and healthy. He got ready to pounce and then seized his chance and closed his hands around the bird. The teeny bird was cradled in the palms in his cupped hands.

But it didn't like _that_ one little bit.

It let out a teeny tiny squeak of fear as it squirmed a little in the prosecutors delicate clasp and it flapped its wings frantically in a pathetic attempt to fly away, although prosecutor Blackquill noticed the flinch it gave when it tried to flap its tiny and rather underdeveloped wingspans.

The hawk kept letting out loud but weak screeches of distress.

He started to fear that the racket would attract very much unwanted attention. This poor little guy would probably get kicked out into the harsh world outside if the police caught wind of the fact that it was in a prison convicts cell and he wasn't going to let them take it and let it starve to death, that was a promise that the twisted samurai made to both himself and to this innocent little feathered fellow.

Simon shushed the ball of fluff and brown feathers as he tried to calm it down, his raspy and husky tone now reduced to a soft and soothing whisper of a voice.

"Shhhh...it is okay, little one. I am not going to hurt you."

It was after saying that the incarcerated prosecutor delicately used the tip of his thumb to stroke it from its head to all the way down to its back, applying just a fraction of pressure as he slid it gingerly up and down the hatchlings back; doing this caused the tiny fledgeling to quiet down a bit as it stopped flailing and seemed to just freeze. As Simon's thumb stroked the poor thing's back, he felt as its whole body sunk and felt a lot more relaxed. It didn't take long before the little hawk started to burrow its head into the small dents and crevices in the young man's palms.

Simon couldn't help but let a quiet brass chuckle slip softly after seeing this absolutely endearing behaviour.

Then he started to let his mind wander.

What had happened? How did this little one end up inside a prison cell? _His_ cell?

He started to guess that maybe either this chick was kicked out of his nest late by his parents and had somehow hurt his wing or whether it had tried to fly too early and the strong winds brewing outside had carried him all the way here and had injured his wing somehow during the trip; these two scenarios seemed the most likely explanation to how the poor feathery fellow ended up like this.

And he thought that the hawk was probably a little male judging by the lower tone of his cries.

Simon looked down at the hawk and asked him, that tender undertone of his never wavering, "Now. Would you let me have a look at that wing?"

"Skree?" The hawk chirped, tilting his head to one side in confusion.

The samurai prosecutor knew that the little one wouldn't take to this, and (again) he feared that the fledgeling would make a bit of a fuss that would make things a bit of a struggle for him and he started to fret over unwanted attention should the squeaking wake up other inmates -he knew that he could easily intimidate them or even slice their heads off if he wanted to...but he honestly didn't wish to have to go through that.

He kept the squirming hawk still in his cupped hands, gently restraining it so he could look at that wonky-looking wing. The hawk chick squirmed uncomfortably as the prosecutor, with surprisingly gentle hands, tenderly pinched the hurting wing in between his index finger and his thumb as he extended it completely.

Simon examined the injury to his left wing.

Needless to say, the twisted samurai was no licensed bird veterinarian nor did he have any means of doing an X-Ray but upon extending the damaged wing, the infamous manipulative samurai prosecutor noticed that there was what looked like some sort of minor dislocation to the connecting joint between the shoulder blade and the humerus.

After he studied that sore-looking wing injury, the convicted prosecutor prisoner gently released the baby hawk's wing for a moment and extended his own arm; he looked down at his forearm for a long moment or two. Then he tore off a bit of his sleeve and then proceeded to tie it around the wing and around the neck -he made a small sling to try and let the broken appendage set properly.

To try and mend the small hawk's broken wing.

He looked down at the little hawk and smiled kindly.

"There you go, my friend."

The hawk chirped, looking confused and perplexed at the human's kindness. For as long as hawk's were old enough to think, they were taught to fear those who didn't have wings and walked on two legs but now this man was taking such care for his wellbeing.

The small fledgeling screeched happily, but then it noticed something.

Simon's smile dropped when he couldn't help but recall the day when his life had went totally wrong. He could remember it all in great detail; the scents the sights and sounds...it was all so vivid to him.

Even now it clouded his mind, befuddling him.

But he had a feeling he knew exactly who was the cause of all of this, he had been researching one man who was a spy and had been working for several big bad companies and criminal gangs, a man who showed almost no emotion whatsoever.

This man who didn't show any feelings whatsoever, not outside and not even on the inside. He was an enigma when it came to human emotions, but that trait also made him a very dangerous man.

He was a fantomu, a phantom.

Memories flashed through his mind in a quick and rather troubling slideshow. He could feel his heart constrict and he clutched his knees and bowed his head, his long black and white mane hung in front of his hair -his mind was as heavy as the chains he had been forced to wear on his wrists every time he's given permission to get out and do some investigating for his own case.

It was thanks to the chief prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth, that he was able to keep his job as a prosecutor.

However, he couldn't help but think about it.

Remember it...

Six years ago, before all this nonsense when he worked with Metis and was taught under her, and even before then, he used to be a young man whom was proud of his work. He was a very astute prosecutor who had an edge in twisting the minds of the witnesses to get guilty verdicts, but he was also very professional whenever he handled it and would study a lot. True, he would also intimidate his peers but back then he would only flash his kunai or the blade of his katana and give a glare as cold as ice and then they would run away and do as he asked...but that was used as more of a practical joke back then.

Yet Simon started to think about something else, something that troubled him more than anything; he had overheard some of the patrol guards chatting about him...they were talking about him officially going into death row. He was probably going to be executed and even though he didn't regret protecting Athena and taking the blame, that thought still frightened him even though he would rather scrub all the cells clean from grime and dirt then admit it.

Moisture tickled behind his eyes and started to swell in Simon's eyeballs as he lowered his gaze on to the ground instead of the little bird he was delicately holding in both the palms in his hands. He could not remember the last time he had let himself shed even a single tear like this, especially when it was in the presence of someone else.

But this just felt right.

He supposed that the heat had been getting to him.

So he closed his eyes and started to break down into sobs and silent tears. He sat on his cot with his head down and some of his long black and white mane of hair hung limply in front of his face, he hadn't even let himself grieve properly after losing Metis. Even though he had rescued his mentor's most prized treasure, her sweet little daughter, he had to basically forfeit his own life and he didn't regret that decision.

But the memories were all still so...so vivid in his mind, even though it had been six years since he had been locked up and it all happened.

He pursed his lips and the sweat freely dripped from his face as the sweltering heat brewed in the downcast atmosphere. He fisted the fabric of his jammies, gripping his knees tight, and his shoulders bunched up so his head could duck down in between them to externally communicate his turmoil. His tears were cool as they flowed down his cheeks, he choked back a sob.

But then his eyes flew open and a shocked gasp swiftly whispered from his throat whilst he quickly straightened his own posture.

He could hardly believe what was happening now.

The small hawk chick had somehow climbed to its own two talons. Its body shook a bit from the instability while it clumsily hopped out of the man's pale-as-a-sheet hands and somehow climbed straight up the man's forearm, it used its healthy wing to balance itself properly, and eventually perched on his left shoulder. Then it leaned to one side and rubbed its head up and down affectionately against where the damp trails on his cheek were, effectively drying the remnants of the remaining tears he had cried.

Simon was in total awe!

He just couldn't help but let the corners of his lips curl upwards and a very gentle smile found itself plastering on his face, his cool dark eyes glinted softly, and he found that chest had started to get this warm and fuzzy sensation. He used two fingertips to very gently stroke the top of the hawk's head again, earning a contented chirp from the small ball of feathers as he happily cuddled up to the insomniac prosecutor.

The little creature, despite being tiny and weak and helpless, had somehow managed to win over the twisted samurai's heart.

The twisted samurai sat back on the bed, sliding beneath the blankets. He didn't know what compelled him to do such a thing but he did sink into the cot and he pulled the blankets over his own chest.

The started to ponder as he found himself sat down in bed

Simon reached up and stroked the baby hawk's head, running two fingertips along the top of his head and then down to his back as he minded the left wing. He smiled gently as he petted the small fledgeling, whom made an adorable crooning purring sound as he nuzzled closely to the samurai. How could he leave this little bird? His wing was hurt and he was very young, he would probably be too domesticated by the time he would be eliagble. Besides, he didn't think that the hawk ever could leave him to go to the wild now.

The bond they formed within this past few minutes already made them inseparable.

Simon saw that by looking into the small bird of prey's eyes.

The insomnia-ridden Simon Blackquill narrowed his darkened-from-sleep-deprivation-eyes with a small smirk that held just as much subdued enthusiasm and conviction that he had not felt in a very long time.

Simon couldn't help but chuckle a bit while he scratched the hawk's little head with his finger tail rubbing the top of his scalp. Actually it looked like the cute little fluffy predator seemed to warm up to him too, although he liked playing with the finger that was being offered to him. The cutie would stand on his talons to make himself taller to try and get at the long thing.

Still petting his newfound feathered friend, the twisted samurai grinned when he received a sudden nip on the finger with the little buzzard's sharp beak.

"So my small feathery friend, would you like to stay with me?"

The young hawk still lay perched on top of Simon's shoulder like a parrot by the side of a captain on the seven seas whilst he nudged his little head up against the human's pale fingers, wanting to be stroked, and it was a request that the convicted prosecutor happily obliged as he petted the little hawk fledgeling and the small bird let out an enthusiastic but light screech as the response to the man's suggestion.

"Skree!"

Simon had noticed that the young bird of preys reply sounded almost as if he had understood exactly what he had suggested. He could sense that this little one and himself were to become a most inseparable pair, even if they were to live behind bars together.

He kept stroking his newfound companion with two fingers and his thumb.

"Alright Taka. It's you and I against this cold hard world."

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 **A/N: There's this little One-shot done, it's my take on how I think Simon and Taka met one another. Quite honestly, even though there wasn't much explained about their partnership and how it began, it just looked so sweet so I decided to take on the challenge of making up my own scenario with a whole bunch of fluffiness stuffed into it.** **Taka and Simon are awesome together and there aren't many fics about the two exclusively, so I thought they deserved a one-shot.**

 **Btw, I'm almost at my 100th Fanfiction. I think that's a thing to celebrate!**

 **However seems that Summer is in full swing since it's seriously boiling out at the minute. I can't remember the last time it has been this hot. But at least we all have the Summer holidays to look forwards to.**

 **Anyways, please review and fave.**

 **-Chloemcg**


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